Wyzett nodded eagerly, his quill scratching furiously across the pages of his notebook.
Every word from Salazar brimmed with insight.
Even if he couldn't fully grasp or apply these truths just yet, he knew they'd become invaluable material for deeper reflection in the future.
Still, one question lingered in his mind—could four friends, united by a common purpose, truly be driven apart by a single disagreement?
"That's all in the past—so does it really matter anymore?" Salazar, master of Legilimency, asked mildly. "Hogwarts still stands, doesn't it? That proves I was right."
Wyzett looked up with a smile. "May I ask, Headmaster Slytherin… what exactly are you now?"
"Curious about what lies beyond the soul, are you?" Salazar returned the smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Clever little eagle… but that's something you'll have to discover for yourself!"
Wyzett nodded, apologetic. "Sorry, I can't help being curious."
"You managed to pass the first trial unscathed—that's no small feat…" Salazar murmured, his gaze thoughtful. "In that case… I suppose you've earned a reward."
Wyzett's eyes lit up. He straightened, notebook in one hand, pen in the other, bowing his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Headmaster Slytherin!"
"Hogwarts…" Salazar mused softly. "It's been a very, very long time since anyone called me Headmaster."
"It seems this new Guardian truly is something special… Through the shell of your soul, I sense an undeniable uniqueness…"
"It's as if anyone willing to approach you, to accept you, finds it easy to open their heart. You must be quite popular at school, aren't you?"
Wyzett shook his head. "Maybe I'm just lucky. The professors look out for me, and most of my classmates treat me well."
"Is that so?" Salazar gave a small, professorial cough. "Let me pose you a question. Suppose I have a box—"
He snapped his fingers. A finely carved wooden box appeared, adorned with intricate serpentine designs and a tiny, ornate lock.
"This lock can only be opened by me. No one else could possibly unlock it. Now, tell me—can you be certain there's a Billywig inside?"
"A Billywig?" Wyzett frowned, thinking hard. "Headmaster Slytherin, are you trying to trick me into overthinking this? Do you want me to get to the absolute bottom of it?"
"Of course," Salazar replied with a sly nod, eyes twinkling with approval. "Talking with a Ravenclaw makes these riddles much more interesting. Go on, think it through."
"In that case…" Wyzett said slowly, "unless you open the box, I could never be sure there's a Billywig inside—no matter what you say."
"Oh?" Salazar's approval grew more evident. With a wave of his hand, the lock clicked open.
He glanced into the box, then snapped it shut again. "What if I told you the Billywig inside is absolutely beautiful—its body glimmers like polished jade?"
"I still wouldn't believe you," Wyzett said, shaking his head with conviction.
Salazar stroked his beard. "Suppose I told you this Billywig is so fast, it could almost outfly a Golden Snitch?"
Wyzett shook his head again. "I wouldn't believe it."
"What if I described it in even greater detail? For instance… this Billywig is about a foot long, with a tiny notch in its left wing?"
"Even then… I still wouldn't believe you. I have to stick to my principles!"
"That's not true conviction, you cunning little eagle!" Salazar said with a chuckle. "That's Ravenclaw cleverness—I've seen plenty of it!"
"Tell me, then! I've described the Billywig so vividly—why won't you believe there's one in my box?"
Wyzett replied, "Because you're only telling me about it. You haven't actually shown it to me. I need to see it with my own eyes… Wait!"
A flash of inspiration struck him. Suddenly, he saw the heart of the riddle.
"Headmaster Slytherin, is it fair to say… each of us has a box, and in it, a Billywig of our own?"
"Just like the soul—or whatever it is that lies even deeper, as you said… something unique to each of us, something utterly singular…"
He stumbled over his words at first, struggling to organize his thoughts, but his voice grew steadier.
"The soul can't be opened by anyone else—it can only be understood by oneself! The Billywig you described is what you see in your own box…"
"And the Billywig I see would be different from yours. So no matter how you describe the soul, I could never truly understand it. Is that right?"
As he finished, a sense of clarity washed over him, as if he'd glimpsed the threshold of the soul itself.
"To reach that conclusion so quickly… It seems the new Guardian has real potential," Salazar said, smiling with satisfaction. "Exactly—that's the truth of it."
"My own inner explorations can never be fully explained to you. If I tried, it might even make things worse…"
"You might start doubting your own understanding, trusting my description over your own experience, and end up unable to believe in yourself at all."
"And if you can't trust yourself, you'll become hopelessly mediocre—incapable of upholding any conviction, let alone pursuing your own truth."
"That's… truly enlightening." Wyzett jotted down every word, then let out a long breath. "Headmaster Slytherin, I've learned so much! I don't even know how to thank you!"
"If you want to thank me—" Salazar began climbing the serpentine staircase, one step at a time.
He reclaimed his place on the throne. "Then complete the next trial."
Wyzett gripped his wand tightly, glancing around. "The next trial? Is it here?"
"No need to be so tense! Isn't it the end of term? You should get some rest." Salazar propped his chin on one hand and yawned, looking almost lazy.
"This time, your challenge is my pet—it's still somewhere in Hogwarts, faithfully carrying out its old duty. You can defeat it, kill it… or tame it."
"Whatever path you choose, I only care about the result—bring back a piece of its body, or win its trust, and return to me through the Mirror of Erised."
Wyzett ventured, "Is there any other hint?"
"Let me see…" Salazar pressed his long fingers to his lips. "You can't ask the professors for help. You'll have to rely on yourself… to find the answer."
Wyzett arched an eyebrow, catching something ambiguous in the word "yourself."
"Interpret it however you like!" Salazar clearly knew what he was thinking, and his smile was enigmatic. "Time's almost up—you should be getting back."
Wyzett took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. "Understood!"
"Then off you go!" Salazar waved a hand, once more picking up his book. The serpentine staircase coiled stiffly around the throne, returning to its original, lifeless form.
"Oh, and one more thing—I can reveal the reward awaiting you after the trial: the method to control The Commandment. I imagine that's what you need most right now."
"The Commandment?" Wyzett echoed. The word was utterly unfamiliar to him.
…
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